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Donde termina el arco iris, en tu alma o en el horizonte? Where does the rainbow end, in your soul or on the horizon?

Pablo Neruda

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Pablo Neruda
Age: 69 †
Born: 1904
Born: July 12
Died: 1973
Died: September 23
Author
Autobiographer
Diplomat
Lyricist
Poet
Politician
Senator Of Chile
Nieh-lu-ta
Neftalí Reyes Basoalto
Pamplo Nerouda
Neftalí Ricardo Reyes
Bāblū Nīrūdā
Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto
Nieluda
Neftali Ricardo Reyes Basoalto
Neftali Reyes Basualto
Neftali Reyes Basoalto
Neftali Ricardo Reyes
Neftalí Reyes Basualto
Pāplō Nerūda
Iris
Alma
Irises
Rainbow
Horizon
Ends
Doe
Soul

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The road made wet by the water of August shines like it was cut in full moonlight
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I learned about life from life itself, love I learned in a single kiss and could teach no one anything except that I have lived with something in common among men.
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I love all things, not only the grand but the infinitely small: thimble, spurs, plates, flower vases.
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I ask permission to be like everybody else,like the rest of the world and what's more, like anybody else:I beg you, with all my heart,if we are talking about me, since we are talking about me,please resist blasting the trumpet during my visitand resign yourselves to my quiet absence.
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From sorrow to sorrow love crosses its islands and establishes roots that are watered by weeping.
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Then Scale by scale, We strip off The delicacy And eat The peaceful mush Of its green heart.
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It was at that age that poetry came in search of me.
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Where were you then? Who else was there? Saying what? Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly when I am sad and feel you are far away?
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Today is today, and yesterday is gone. There is no doubt.
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so I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache.
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I am everybody and every time, I always call myself by your name.
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And I, infinitesima­l being, drunk with the great starry void, likeness, image of mystery, I felt myself a pure part of the abyss, I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke loose on the wind.
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I think it was very informative, but a lot still needs to be done.
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In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begins.
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We came by night to the Fortunate Isles, And lay like fish Under the net of our kisses.
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In you is the illusion of each day. You arrive like the dew to the cupped flowers. You undermine the horizon with your absence. Eternally in flight like the wave.
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Death is the stone into which our oblivion hardens.
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It was my destiny to love and say goodbye.
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I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.
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Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance. Don't leave me for a second, my dearest.
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